Calling on Angels
by Merisha
Summary: Sam and Dean have a fight on Christmas eve. Set season 4. Rated T for language. Dedicated to my awesome beta’s PADavis, Amarintha and Kelly.
1. Chapter 1

**Calling on Angels**

**Chapter 1**

**Synopsis:** Sam and Dean have a fight on Christmas Eve. Two parts. Set season 4.

This story has been niggling at me. I wanted to finish the short sequel Christmas story to Cliffhanger, but my muse just takes me where she wants … this being the result … sorry ;)

This isn't my usual writing style, thought I'd try something different, I can't explain it, so be gentle ;)

Dedicated to my awesome beta's PADavis, Amarintha and Kelly plus additional cheerleaders, Wendy, Vixxenfairy and Lizz (and SciFirn, 'cause she helped me with some technical medical knowledge). They have been invaluable to me over the last year. _Thank you so much for your wonderful, patient advice and encouragement_. I didn't ask them to beta this one (_I'm evil, but not that evil, 'tis the season after all)_ and besides, it's sort of a present (and they might want a refund LOL), so any and all mistakes are my own :)

To all the amazingly talented writers on FF, thank you guys for the wonderful stories of angst, drama and 'whumping of Dean' (particularly Phoebe, Terry and Muffy, I think they have a special torture room in their homes, just like me ROFL), those awesome fics just light up my life – keep them coming in 2009 guys!

I also realize that most of you are on holiday, so I'm not expecting reviews, I just hope you enjoy it, 'cause even I think it's weird LOL :) - Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and/or holidays and/or festivities and thanks for your amazing support during 2008!

**Warning:** Bad language, thanks to my coach Phoebe :)

* * *

It wasn't every day that his brother could shock the living shit right out of him, without a warning mind you, right to the point of almost complete speechlessness.

"What?"

He stopped in his snowy tracks, turning to look at his sibling, sure he had heard wrong, 'cause there was no friggin way in hell that Sammy could have just asked him that dumb ass question, suggested what he had just suggested … no way.

Sam stopped abruptly next to him, hands deep in his pocket, eyes downcast.

"It's not a big deal Dean, don't turn it into something it's not."

"Not a big deal? Have you completely lost your fucking marbles? 'Cause seriously dude," he threw his arms up in mock despair, "this is fucking unbelievable, even for you."

Sam eyes met his, flashing a cold warning, but his voice was the pure essence of controlled calm.

"Dean, it's just like every other stupid day, only we'll be having lunch and spending some time together, what harm is there in that?"

Dean's eyes were flashing back with a 'not so cold' warning … shooting hot daggers at his obviously demented brother.

"Well let's see …," he pretended to ponder the situation, finger on chin, "… firstly, I don't like the bitch, and secondly, just because she gave you some free lessons in the 'no pants dance', doesn't make her family. She's a demon Sam, not to mention that I still don't trust her further than I can throw her. "

Aggravation was seeping into Sam's voice as he rolled back on his heels, making him suddenly seem taller than his six foot four stature.

"Damnit Dean, I just don't want her to be alone is all, she doesn't have anyone, it's just another day, just like every other."

"No it's not, what's wrong with you man? It's fucking Christmas, Sam … Christmas. Day. The holiest day on the Christian calendar, and you want her, a demon, to spend it with us?"

Sam's aggravation was now evident in his stance, shifting from foot to foot as he frowned at his brother. They were standing on a dimly lit and deserted street corner, on their way to the only open convenience store, just the next street over. They were on the hunt for beer, alcohol, and whatever else they could lay their hands on, at Dean's infuriating insistence. It was late, a cold wind whipping around them as Sam pulled his coat tighter around his shivering form. Trust them to have a rip-roaring fight out in the friggin cold night air, on Christmas Eve, and just two blocks away from their nice warm motel room.

"Shit Dean … that's rich coming from you. Since when did you become all 'high and mighty'? You didn't ever believe in God or angels, and now look at you, preaching to me of all people."

There was a mocking tone in Sam's voice that was unintentional, and he also knew, hurtful. He wondered when he had become such an ass. So he tried again, his voice reverting to the soothing tone that always, _well not so much lately_, worked on Dean.

"All I'm saying is that she's helped us more in this last year than anyone … she helped me, what else does she have to do to prove herself?"

Dean, not for the first time, felt the sting of the barb Sam had unwittingly just thrown his way. Sam was right, he hadn't believed, had actually teased his younger brother about his faith on numerous occasions, but a stint in the pit and a 'blistering' rescue could speedily change a guys mind. He certainly didn't need a recap of how Sam and Ruby had helped more people in the 4 months, _aka the eternal 40 years he had spent being the tormented and the fucking tormenter in hell_, then he and his brother had done in the past year. That was still a slap to the face.

He shook his head in despair, knowing exactly how useless he was, compared to the new and improved demon-power-super-charged Sammy he had returned to, no thanks to the aforementioned Ruby … and he realized again just how unneeded he had become. He still, for the life of him, couldn't understand why God had handpicked him, chosen him personally, out of everyone, to fight a war that even the angels were losing? He knew he wasn't worthy, maybe it was because he was so damn expendable?

Those words were still sinking in, burning like acid in his gut, so he couldn't help the surprised look he gave his little brother, the one where in his mind, Sam was suddenly sprouting a pair of horns and a tail.

"So what? Now you want to pick out curtains with her?"

"She was there for me Dean, you don't seem to understand that, and I keep trying to explain … if it wasn't for her I wouldn't be here right now, wouldn't be here with you."

The pang of guilt, another fucking barb, was doing nothing to alleviate the irritation and anger rushing through his blood like molten lava. He needed a fucking drink.

"Okay, whatever man, but I'm telling you something for nothing right now … I'm not spending Christmas with her … I don't care how close you two lovebirds were … are. If you want to, you go ahead, play 'housey housey' … just leave me out of it!"

He stepped off the pavement, muscles tense, but stopped, turning slowly to face his brother again, just as Sam's angry words tore a new hole into his heart.

"Maybe I'll do that Dean … you've been a right royal pain in the ass about this ever since you found out. And I like Ruby, she helped me when I needed someone … when I had no one … and seriously dude, if you don't like it, don't want to spend Christmas together, than fine … that's your decision."

So there it was, finally, the confirmation he had been dreading, he really wasn't needed anymore. A test … a choice between her and him, and Sam had chosen. It still hurt like a sonnavabitch, 'specially when it was said out loud. He wanted to shake his brother, shake some sense into his naive frame. He didn't know what Ruby's game was, but she was playing Sam, he could feel it, and besides he was back damnit, he was back from hell. Wasn't that enough? I mean for godsake, wasn't that a fucking miracle in itself? Sammy wasn't alone anymore, he had Dean … but it seemed that Sam had found a replacement. Dean was now a liability, and as Sam kept pointing out, 'a right royal pain in the ass'.

"Fine Sam, I'm outta here. Do what you want."

He started turning, the ache he was feeling in his soul making him lash out one last time. He made damn sure Sam heard his next words, wanting to hurt his little brother, the person he had missed for so long, the person who didn't need him anymore … he wanted to hurt him just as badly.

"Sometimes I wonder if you ever really wanted me back."

He was looking at his feet as he said it, scared to hear the answer, but Sam's whipping retaliation was worse than he ever could have expected.

"Go to hell, Dean!"

His body jerked slightly, suddenly felt numb from the impact, like Sam had shot those words into his exposed back, severing the nerves in his spine. But he still managed to take a step, start walking, moving on autopilot as he crossed the street. He didn't look back.

"DEAN?"

The first scream of his brother's name was in a plaintive form of an apology. Sam raged at himself. What the hell was wrong with him? What had possessed him to ask Dean if Ruby could spend Christmas with them? He knew how Dean felt, Dean had made it perfectly clear every chance he got. But he owed Ruby, and he was torn between loyalty to his brother and loyalty to the one person, _demon though she was_, who had pulled him through the worst time of his life.

He had known this would happen though, knew it before he had even asked, but he had been pushing, feeling the need to be in control again, even with Dean back. Dean taking the lead, falling into his role as protector, a role Sam had, unwillingly at first, inherited after his brother's death. It was strangely difficult to accept or relinquish control. And if he were being completely honest with himself, he missed that bit of independence. But not as much as he had missed Dean. God no. He wouldn't trade having his brother back for anything in the world, not one damn thing. Yet here he was, starting a stupid fight … always pushing, like he had done with Dad when Dad was alive, and did he really want the relationship he was trying to rebuild with his brother to end up like that? He called out again in desperation.

"DEAN?"

He watched his brother walking away from him, head bowed, ignoring and blocking out his plea. Dean had every right to be pissed, he was pissed at himself right now. He stepped forward, needing to fix this somehow, his head instantly snapping to the left as he heard the sound of a car approaching, swerving on the icy road, engine roaring … fast, way too fast. A look of horror crossed his features as the headlights barrelled full speed towards his oblivious brother.

The third scream was an anguished yell of denial.

"DEAN!"

He was running before he could stop himself, but it all happened so fast, one minute Dean was walking, lost in his own angry thoughts, only getting the briefest of seconds to look up and register what was going on, as the bright lights momentarily blinded him, pulling him from his reverie.

He didn't even get a chance to dive out of the way, vaguely hearing the raw shout of his name from his brother's lips. The impact hit him almost as soon as the headlights did. He had to admit that being hit by a car was one of the weirdest sensations he had ever felt. Sam had told him about the time he had been knocked over by some old dude, one of the many times he had died back at the Mystery Spot, but he didn't remember that. So this was completely new to him, the feeling of weightlessness as he was catapulted up onto the hood, the sharp pain of smashing into the windshield before flying over the roof. It didn't hurt as badly as he imagined, not until he hit the tar, 'cause that hurt like a bitch, but thankfully only for a second before oblivion stole his last thoughts away.

Sam was next to his brother before he came to a complete tumbling stop. The car didn't even brake as it disappeared out of sight, the whole thing happening in a matter of seconds.

"Oh god … no … nonono!!"

Dean was lying on his back, bleeding, his sightless eyes looking up at the dark sky. Sam's heart was waiting to stop as he shakily felt for a pulse. He took his first breath since sprinting across the street when he felt the weak flutter beneath his fingertips. He barely registered yelling for anyone to help him, barely registered the shop owner rushing over to assist and barely registered his automatic demand that he call 911.

'Cause this wasn't happening. No. His mind felt like it was switching off as a horrible sense of déjà-vu descended over him. He refused to accept that he was kneeling next to his barely alive brother. Dean couldn't be dying, 'cause that just wasn't right, right? Hadn't he died already, didn't that somehow absolve him from death? Didn't the fact that an angel had pulled him out of hell make his big brother indestructible, like he had been when Sam was a kid, before he knew better?

He carefully lifted his brothers upper body onto his lap, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he shouldn't be moving Dean at all. But he couldn't leave his brother on the cold ground, _in_ the cold ground … he'd done that before, he wouldn't do that again. Flashes of memory bombarded him. Shovelling dirt onto a wooden box, already forgetting Dean's face, his voice. He didn't want to forget, didn't want that hollow silence to haunt him again.

"Don't die, you're alright ... I've got you."

So he concentrated on the one sound he could hear, the hitching of Dean's breath … the shallow rise and fall of Dean's chest. There was no one else, just him and Dean on a cold, deserted street. No other evidence of the hit and run, like nothing had happened. In the back of his mind he wished he would just wake up right now, 'cause this nightmare was getting a little too real.

His shaky, heartbroken voice sounded too familiar to his own ears, tears spilling onto Dean's still face. Dean dead in his arms after the hellhounds had torn him to shreds, superimposed over the form now cradled in his arms.

"Please Dean, I'm so sorry … you're okay … you'll be okay."

He gently rocked his brother, willing him to stay alive, keep breathing until help arrived.

He began wondering if maybe he was in some sort of coma, or maybe an alternative universe created by a Djinn. Hadn't he nearly resorted to that when Dean had died? 'Cause hell, he had tried everything to get his brother back. And when all else had failed, he had given up … given up on life. Maybe this was some delusional dream, maybe Dean was still dead and buried, and Sam, well he was hooked up in a warehouse somewhere, slowly bleeding to death.

But the solid feel of Dean in his arms, the sounds, the too familiar smells, the blood covering his hands, strangely that was what was grounding him. He knew this was real, even though he so desperately didn't want to accept it, and he also knew that he couldn't do this again … he couldn't lose his brother again. He wouldn't survive a second time, Ruby wouldn't be able to save him from himself a second time.

He only had one choice, he wasn't sure if he'd be heard, wasn't sure if he was worthy enough to be heard … but he had to try anyway.

"God, if you're listening, if you're really out there, please … please help me!"

_**TBC**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Calling on Angels**

**Chapter 2**

**Notes:** Thanks to everyone for the lovely messages, well wishes and reviews ;) – sorry for the delay, have so much to do before the end of the year ROFL :)

Have to add another small apology, this was initially a two part story, but then another idea hit me, so I'm following it through ... and this is now a three part story ... don't worry, I know, I'm rolling my eyes too LOL :)

Also, Just so you know, I'm not a fan of the new Ruby, I keep hoping Sammy will accidently use his mojo on her (crosses fingers and toes) LOL :)

All mistakes are still my own.

And if I don't chat to you before ... I wish you all the very best for 2009!

**Warning:** Phoebe-esque Language (wiggles eyebrows)

* * *

His heart was breaking, as surely as he was sitting there, desperately clinging to his dying brother, still rocking him slowly to a soundless rhythm. He could actually feel the shattering in his chest, splintering into his soul, and it hurt. God, it hurt so bad ... just like before, and to think he'd almost forgotten ... almost.

The ache was slowly moving up his throat, choking off his breath with each deep sob as tears streamed down his cheeks and to the tip of his nose before finally dripping onto Dean's too pale skin.

"… I'll do anything … give anything …"

Sam's voice quivered, his thumb rubbing a feather light trail across Dean's scrapped and bleeding brow, down and along his cheekbone. He couldn't tear his eyes away … knew he was trying to memorize his brother's face again, just in case, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Dean still hadn't moved, but as long as he was breathing, Sam could deal.

"Please God, I know I have no right to ask, but please … help my brother … don't forsake him … not again."

The words faltered on his trembling lips as he tried to pray; to ask for help that he knew wouldn't come. He'd been here before, done this before … and he already knew the outcome. So he wasn't prepared for the calm voice beside him, or the cool, firm hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be afraid, Sam."

He looked up, blinking at the figure standing over him. The light from the streetlamp overhead forming a shimmering halo around the expressionless face.

"Castiel?"

The hand moved away, and with it the fleeting feeling of comfort and warmth. Words just pored from his mouth then … he wasn't ashamed to beg, he was ready to do whatever it took.

"Please, don't let him die … I don't want anything … I know there's nothing I can give … just please …"

Castiel didn't miss the war of emotions flitting across Sam's face as he gazed down with such intense love at his brother, lightly brushing his fingers over Dean's lids to gently close his eyes. The reason Sam had been spared to fight this battle with Dean was becoming more evident to him.

Sam felt like he was dying inside, he couldn't bear to look of those sightless green orbs anymore … eyes that still haunted his dreams.

"What happened?"

"A car … speeding … hit and run … I don't know …"

Sam looked up at Cas again, he was just standing there, patient and silent, and he knew he'd given the wrong answer.

"Fight … Dean and I had a fight … about Ruby."

The angels head was tilted slightly to the side, as if contemplating Sam's words, one eyebrow lifted in what could only be construed as a look of mild confusion.

"You were fighting … over a demon."

It was more a statement then a question.

"It was stupid," Sam knew that now, "I just thought … but I should have known … I didn't mean for it … and now this …"

He couldn't seem to find a way to express himself, didn't know how to explain his actions to Castiel. He still felt awkward around the angel, probably because the angel was just as awkward around people if their first handshake was anything to go by. Sam had never really had a meaningful discussion with Castiel and he sure as shit didn't want to be discussing the merits of his friendship with a demon with a holy entity. But right now he didn't really care about the why and how for's, he just wanted Dean back, wanted his brother to stay alive, at any friggin cost. He cast pleading eyes towards Cas, Cas who was now crouching beside them. He looked awkward, like he wasn't used to stooping.

"Do you know why your brother was saved Sam?"

The voice was soft, measured, and it was starting to make Sam seriously pissed. What kind of a question was that to ask at a time like this? He wanted help, he wanted some holy mojo, some miracle to save Dean, he didn't want a heart to heart. He watched as Cas laid his right hand on Dean's forehead, crystal blue eyes looking down at his seriously wounded charge with a cool detachment Sam had become used to seeing on the angels face. Cas looked up at him again, obviously waiting for an answer.

"'Cause God … has work for him to do?"

It was what Dean had said. Sam didn't mention that it was also the only hope he had that Dean would be saved right now … because God obviously needed him for some bigger purpose.

Castiel's eyes locked with Sam's.

"That came after … after my Father instructed me to pull Dean from perdition."

It was Sam's turn to look confused.

"After? But I thought …"

The angel continued as if Sam hadn't spoken.

"The reason Dean was saved, the reason he was chosen, was because every single day … without fail, for the 40 years he spent in damnation … Dean prayed."

Whatever he'd been expecting the angel to say, this wasn't it. He lost his voice for a few seconds as those words swirled around inside his head, making him dizzy.

Dean had prayed. His brother, Dean.

He had been tortured and decimated, had suffered untold horrors, done the same to other souls from his own confession, but he had also … prayed.

His mouth opened and closed … his throat suddenly dry, but a slight shuddering movement from Dean drew Sam's eyes back to his brother and instant panic assailed him when he realized Dean had stopped breathing, had become a dead weight and was fucking dying in his arms. He started shaking him frantically.

"NO … nonono!"

… and Cas was just watching, letting it happen? Sam's voice rose in panic.

"He's dying … please … do something …"

The angels hand calmly moved from Dean's forehead to gently clasp and support Dean's neck, a small frown on his otherwise stoic face.

"Breath, Dean."

Sam heard his own trembling gasp turn to a sigh of relief, eyes wide with wonder as Dean took a shallow breath on Castiel's demand. He was almost expecting Dean to 'rise and awaken', but that didn't happen and Cas just continued talking as if he hadn't just performed a fucking miracle.

"… for the first 30 years he didn't pray for himself, he didn't pray for redemption … every single prayer that he sent up to heaven … every single one … was to look out for you, Sam … and keep you safe."

Sam couldn't breathe, he didn't want to hear this … wasn't ready for this kind of burden … it was too painful … but Castiel seemed oblivious to the effects of his words and carried on undeterred.

"And then every single prayer for the 10 years after … they were for forgiveness … absolution for what he was doing to others."

Sam thought his tight throat would cut off his air supply any second now and he battled to swallow down the pain he felt. Dean, his big brother, had never stopped protecting him.

The air around them grew still, giving Sam a minute to compose himself as he gripped his brother tighter to his chest … no sounds, just the almost musical tempo of their combined breaths. He watched nervously as Castiel moved his hand firmly over Dean's chest, abdomen, and then carefully over his arms and legs. Sam knew he was checking for injuries, Dean's body arching slightly into each touch, breath faultering momentarily, before evening out. When he seemed satisfied with his assessment, his hand returned to Dean's forehead before his voice broke the silence.

"What did you say to him, Sam?"

He wished he could go back in time, take back those words.

"I told him … I told him to go to hell ..."

Castiel's eyes flashed, instantly changing to a stormy blue.

"But I didn't mean it, I was angry …"

The angel's voice reverberated with such intense energy that Sam was suddenly taken aback by the force of it.

"You have no idea of the meaning, Sam … hell is very real … men stronger than your brother broke, your own father broke … but Dean held on. You cannot even comprehend what that means … you'll never fully understand … but I can give you a glimpse."

Before Sam could respond, Castiel had tilted his head to the side and pressed his finger to the centre of Sam's forehead. The connection was like an electric shock. He felt like he was being plugged into the entire universe. It was a rush of excitement, of wonder, and fucking terrifying beyond belief … he'd never been so scared in all his life. It lasted just for a moment, but it felt like a lifetime. Feeling the power flowing from that touch, flashes of things he couldn't describe, pieces of Castiel's memories, of Dean's … it was all too much … and Sam screamed.

He blinked against the white light, eye's finally adjusting. The angel was holding him and Dean steady in a half embrace, and Sam realized he must have momentarily blanked out. But as things came back into focus, so did the brief glimpse into hell … and for the first time he understood why Dean could never explain or share what had happened to him in the pit. Because Sam had no words of his own. Castiel was talking again, voice calming his racing heartbeat as he tried to concentrate on his words.

"His thoughts were filled each day with the hope that you'd save him, Sam. It's what carried him, even when he knew that nobody would come."

Sam had no idea how Dean could have possibly lasted as long as he had. He thought that living without Dean was hell, the knowledge of what was happening to his brother in the pit, that had been hell … but when you got down to it, actually got a small taste, just a brief glimpse as he had just done … he wondered how Dean was able to even function and not be completely fucking insane.

"God heard your prayers, Sam … he heard Dean's prayers …"

And Sam suddenly felt like a selfish sonnavabitch … he had no right … no right to judge or question … and he was going to do everything in his power to try and fix this … try and help Dean cope … cause God, there was no way one man could cope with the burden that Dean was carrying around … not without eventually breaking … and Sam wouldn't ever let that happen to his brother again. Never.

"Help is here, Sam."

The shop owner, who hadn't made an appearance since the accident, and Sam thought that Castiel probably had something to do with that, was directing the ambulance which stopped a few feet away. He hadn't even heard it's arrival as he watched the doors swinging open and a paramedic jump down, reaching for a gurney and other medical equipment.

"Will he be okay?"

Sam turned back to look at Cas … the angel was gone, but for the first time in a long time he didn't feel alone.

_**TBC**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Notes:** Finally, the final chapter that I'm sure you were thinking would never happen, I know I was worried :) - Sorry to keep you all waiting so long … can't seem to string two words together lately, never mind sentences, but I've been told (to my horror) that my actions have not only led to threats from readers and cheerleaders, but has also led to intense 'feline disappointment'! I can barely live with myself at the thought, had no ideas cat's could read, so this one's for you Al!

Thanks as always to everyone for the amazing reviews, PM's, cc's (constructive crits), fav's and alerts. And to Phoebe who patiently helped me through this long, slow process, and managed to add some magic to my ramblings, so that I could eventually finish. My poor beta's holidays are over (nods head), not to mention my poor cheerleaders (nods head again).

This chapter is sort of a sequel to my next story, which I want to finish before I upload it, 'cause at the rate I'm going I'll drive everyone nuts with the waiting LOL ;)

Hope you enjoy as always ;)

Now please 'scuse me while I go hunt down some more awesome SN stories to read, by authors who shamelessly feed my addiction!

**Warning:** Language, fudge-it! Extra swear word added for Phoebe, because she evilly promised to withhold her stories from me if I didn't shift my ass-into-gear … I may never recover from the threat! ;) – and Wends, you can start breathing again … it's been a few weeks … hope you're still okay LOL :)

* * *

He watched, frozen, as the medics quickly swarmed around Dean, checking, injecting, securing, lifting, all the while barking out questions that Sam answered with the numb ease of routine.

He managed to pry the keys to the Impala out of Dean's pocket before they loaded his brother into the ambulance … whispered reassurances and a gentle squeeze on his unconscious brother's arm the only good-bye that Sam could manage. He sprinted the two blocks to the motel, sliding into the Impala and fishtailing out of the parking lot, wheels spinning on the snow covered road. He tried to stay calm, not have another goddamn accident, as he sped after the ambulance, earsplitting sirens leading the way.

They made it in record time, Sam managing to park the car and still catch up to the gurney just as they wheeled Dean into the nearest examination room. A nurse blocked his way as he tried to follow, assuring him that Dean was getting the best medical care available, and that he needed to wait and fill out forms and all the other bureaucratic bullshit that was associated with these fucking situations.

He sighed. He'd been through enough of these to know the drill, and found himself sitting in one of the most uncomfortable plastic waiting room chairs he'd ever had the misfortune to rest his weary ass on, filling in the fake details on paperwork that would be the saving grace of his brother's life.

An hour later and Sam's nails were all chewed to the quick, his leg thumping a nervous rhythm under his elbows as he leaned forward on his knees. He tried to relax, tried not to ask the nurse on duty what was happening for the hundredth time, tried not to walk a hole in the linoleum flooring.

When a guy in a white coat, the M.D. on his nametag assuring Sam that he was in fact, a doctor, finally stepped out of Dean's room, Sam was up and almost on top of him before he had taken two steps away from the door.

"My brother … Dean …"

A firm hand made it to his shoulder, steadying his forward momentum as he tried to push past into the room that was hiding Dean from his view.

"Easy, son … he's doing alright considering … come, let's sit down and talk for a second."

Sam swallowed apprehensively, eyes still locked on the closed door as the Doctor started leading him away to the nearest chair.

"What's wrong … are they getting him ready for surgery? Do you need my signature on another form?"

"Surgery? No … heavens no, kid … he doesn't need surgery."

Sam looked at him then, not sure he was hearing right. Was it that bad, was Dean dying after all, had Castiel just prolonged the inevitable?

"I think your brother may be the luckiest person I've ever met."

Sam stopped, uncertainty warring with his fears. Lucky? Who the hell was he kidding? Dean had never, ever, been lucky ... not unless it was the 'dumb' kind.

"From what you described, I was expecting far more serious injuries, but the worst thing he's suffering from seems to be a mild concussion."

He frowned at the doctor in confusion. Were they talking about Dean? His Dean? Dean who had been hit full force by a speeding SUV?

"He has numerous bruises, and scrapes, but nothing life threatening, no broken or cracked bones, no sprains … it's a miracle, actually."

Sam had to take another moment to let the doctors words sink in.

A miracle? Holy shit. It finally hit him. Cas had examined Dean, hands skimming his body for injuries, not just examining, but, seriously, healing?

He felt a wave of relief wash over him. Cas had somehow healed Dean's more serious injuries. And why the fuck was he so surprised. Hadn't Cas brought Dean back to the land of the living in one perfect 'virginal' piece? A few broken bones and some internal injuries would, more than likely, be far easier to fix.

A miracle. Well fuck him.

"Yes it is, doc … thank you."

Sam couldn't hold back the smile that was suddenly plastered on his face. The relief almost made his knees buckle. The doctor managed to steer him to the nearest chair where he sat down gratefully.

"We will however be keeping him overnight for observation. His injuries aren't serious but we're still a bit concerned that he hasn't woken up yet."

Sam felt his chest tighten again.

"Is that bad?"

"We're not sure, according to our tests your brother should be awake … we'll keep monitoring him closely, just in case."

He nodded, the feeling of dread returning. Why was Dean still unconscious? Had Cas missed something?

His thoughts were interrupted as he watched a nurse exit Dean's room, the doctor nodding for him to follow as he moved towards the door. Sam's legs felt very stiff as he stood and started forward, apprehension slowing his steps.

He took a deep breath before following the doctor in, his eyes immediately settling on the still form of his brother, lying pale and unmoving under the stark white sheets.

Shit … Dean.

Even though he knew the injuries were no longer life threatening, the dark bruises highlighted by bloody scrapes, only made the fact that he had nearly lost the most precious thing in the world to him, again, suddenly hit home with intense force.

His hands were trembling, so he clasped them tightly together before moving uncertainly towards his unconscious brother. His eyes were fixed on Dean's face, looking for any signs of waking, a much needed sign of life. But the only thing moving was the slight rise and fall of Dean's chest as he breathed evenly.

He found that he needed to sit again, and thankfully the doctor had pushed a chair closer to the bed as Sam sank down, his hand immediately reaching out for Dean's, needing some form of contact to reassure him that Dean was, in fact, alive.

He kept a silent vigil as he watched the Doctor and nurses make notes on charts and adjust equipment, feeling slightly relieved when they left, a reassuring pat on his shoulder from the doctor doing nothing to alleviate his darkest fears.

"Please, Dean, you need to wake up now … I'm sorry, sorry for the fight … for everything … please, just open your eyes."

He got no response, his heart sinking as he leaned forward, letting his hand clasp Dean's firmly, willing to wait as long as it took for his brother to wake up.

"Have you ever wondered why your brother has never been possessed by a demon, Samuel?"

He almost fell out of his fucking piece of shit chair. Cas was back. His heart was thumping madly, but he didn't turn around, instead he waited for Cas to move. Sam only looked up when Cas reached the head of the bed, watched jealously as he put his hand on his brother's forehead with irritating familiarity.

Sam didn't know what to say, what he was expected to say, so he kept quiet, waiting for the angel to continue.

"It's because demons are denied the right to possess a person by the act of repentance."

Cas was studying him, inspecting him, measuring him. Sam began to feel uncomfortable. The angel always seemed to have a way of making him feel like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Think on that and you will understand why your brother was saved, and why my … our Father, has work for him."

Sam managed a small nod, swallowing awkwardly under the angel's intense scrutiny. Repentance? What the fuck did that mean, and what exactly did it have to do with Dean?

"There are forces at work, things we need to take control of. Like you, Sam. You are fighting your demon blood, but you are also embracing it."

He felt like he should be somehow affronted, wanted to instantly deny that accusation, but Cas' words managed to ring painfully true.

"I will not preach to you about right and wrong, that's not my place. Besides, I have no doubt that your brother has instilled those values in you already, but I want you to bear this in mind. Demons seek to make you ineffective by undermining the purpose of God. They will lead you down a path not ordained by God, because they are deceitful. They empower and help you, but they also divert you from God's plan."

Sam swallowed nervously, still unable to get a word past his painfully tight throat.

"God has a plan, Sam, never doubt that. And your brother is one of the vessels in this war. There will be a war, and you need to know which side you are on. Remember that. For your sake as well as your brother's."

There was a swooshing sound as Castiel flew off, or evaporated, or whatever the hell angels do, leaving Sam once again alone with his brother. He noticed it then; it hadn't been there before … a Bible lying open on the small table next to Dean's bed. That didn't make any sense, until he realized Castiel had set this for him. Subtlety obviously wasn't the angel's forte. His eyes fell immediately on one sentence … and the meaning behind those words sent a shiver down his spine.

_'Ephesians 2:8 For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.'_

A gift of God.

He jumped slightly when he heard a noise. Dean was shifting in bed, moving, waking up. Sam leaned closer, squeezing Dean's arm gently, watching his eyes move under closed lids.

"Dean?"

There was a soft groan accompanied by a deepening frown.

"Dean? Hey? You with me?"

Another moan, similar in sound to the grumpy noises Dean usually made when waking up and wanting instead to sleep in.

"Please, dude … you scared the shit out of me … I need to know you're okay … please … open your eyes."

The progress from unconscious to barely awake was a tedious one. Sam watched hopefully as Dean battled to open his seemingly heavy eyelids. Blinking in confusion for a second, before scrunching them quickly shut again. A deeper moan passing his lips, advertising the obvious pain he was in.

"Hold on, Dean … I'll go get the doctor."

Sam made a move to stand, but Dean's arm instantly snaked out, grabbing Sam's wrist, in a feeble attempt to halt his progress.

"Nnn…"

"Dean?"

On his third attempt, Dean managed to open his eyes and stare blearily at the huge ass blur hovering over him. A blur with big hair. He blinked.

"Smm…?"

"Yeah … you with me yet?"

Dean willed his eyes to track around the room, but he couldn't make sense of his surroundings. He squinted and settled on Sam's face again.

"Whhr … whattt?"

"Hospital … hit by an SUV."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Whh .."

"No idea, from what I could figure, probably some drunk driver … but I'll fill you in on the details, angel intervention and all, when you can name the last four 'fuglies' that we wasted."

Dean looked at him in confusion, only confirming Sam's suspicions.

"You're seriously beyond lucky to even be alive, dude."

"Mmm…"

"Morphine? I was heading out to get you some …. before you stopped me."

Dean's eyes widened in mock horror … his weak arm instantly shooshing Sam in the direction of the door. Shit … what was he thinking trying to stop his little brother on an obviously life saving mission?

Sam grinned, the feeling of relief returning as he patted Dean encouragingly on the knee, before heading into the passage to find the doctor. Seconds later he was back, Dean's pained gaze fixing on them as soon as they entered the room. He tried to shift, move his aching limbs, grinding his teeth instead and Sam was instantly at his side, hands reaching out to still his movements.

"Easy … easy … you're still pretty banged up. Let the doc check you over before you attempt chasing the cute nurses around this place."

Dean watched as a bony nurse, with very sharp features, blushed slightly at Sam's comment. She winked at Dean suggestively before leaving the room. Sam snickered.

"She's single … should I get her number for you?"

Dean swatted irritably at his fussing sibling's restraining hand, the movement eliciting another groan from him, as a muscle he didn't know he had pulled uncomfortably.

"Dean, good to see you awake, kid. You gave us all a pretty big scare, 'specially your brother over there, almost had him in tears."

The doc had a teasing smile on his lips, but Sam gave him a pretty good version of his 'bitch face' before turning a sheepish grin on Dean, shrugging his shoulders in defeat at Dean's slightly amused look.

"What? You'd be worse if the situation were reversed."

Dean would have probably agreed if the doc wasn't sticking his fingers into a particularly painful area of bruises, causing him to hiss instead.

"Sorry, just needed to make sure … but it looks like you're going to live … you're going to be a bit sore for the next few days, and we'll have to monitor that concussion you have …"

The doc chose that moment to shine his friggin penlight right into Dean's still adjusting eyeballs.

"Frrrk!!"

Sam snorted at that … before looking at the doctor with a straight face and saying, "He says, thanks."

Dean tried to glare at his baby brother through his throbbing vision, brain apparently making a valiant attempt to climb right out of his skull. The little bitch knew very well that he hadn't said 'thanks'.

The doctor started rattling off the standard 'spiel' about concussions that Sam already knew by heart. He injected something into Dean's IV, which he assumed was the long awaited morphine, if the look on Dean's face was anything to go by. When the doc started pulling off the blankets to thoroughly check Dean over, Sam smiled encouragingly at his brother, seeing the flash of nervousness reflected in his unfocused eyes. That was his cue to leave Dean with some dignity, if only for a few minutes.

"Don't worry, dude, I'll be right outside … getting coffee …"

Sam smirked, ignoring the hopeful 'me too' that Dean managed to whimper before the doctor started poking and prodding again, eliciting a few colorful words from Dean, that Sam would seriously have to apologize for later.

A familiar figure was standing by the coffee machine.

"He okay?" She nodded her head in the direction of Dean's room.

"Yeah, the doctor says he'll be fine."

A crooked smile played on her lips as she looked up at him, arms folded.

"Good …"

He rubbed his hand through his hair, feeling awkward, but knowing what he had to do. He tried, but he just couldn't seem to muster up any pity for her, not like before. The feeling of overwhelming relief and happiness at having Dean alive were the only emotions he was willing to acknowledge for now.

"'Bout tomorrow … it's not happening, Ruby … I'm … I'm sorry …"

The apology didn't even ring true to his own ears and by the slight irritated flash in Ruby's eyes, he knew she didn't believe it either.

"I know, I should never have suggested it ..."

"I shouldn't have … there is no choice, Ruby ... Dean is my number one priority … he will always come first with me."

Her dark eyes were assessing him through hooded lids.

"Your brother will be the death of you one day, Sam."

He nodded in agreement … accepting that inevitability … it was a burden he was all too willing to carry … Dean had died for him, he didn't care if he returned the favor.

"I wouldn't change that for the world."

He knew she would think he was being stupid … an idiot … could almost see the words rolling off her tongue … but all she said was, "Whatever, Sam … I'll see you later … when you're ready."

"Yeah … whatever."

He didn't notice the disappointed look in her eyes as he turned away, nor the slight smirk on her lips as he returned to Dean's room.

This was starting to play out so beautifully. She knew that Sam would do anything, become anything, to ensure that he could protect his brother … succeed where he had failed before. She had encouraged him, convinced him, to believe that he could have stopped the deal if he had listened to her – then had been forced to watch helplessly as his brother was massacred before his eyes - images that she knew still haunted him. She smiled. He wanted revenge. It was a vow. It was her trump card. Sam would never rest until he had Lilith's head on a platter.

There were rumors going around the demon hotline about a hit on Dean Winchester's life. Every demon out there was on alert. Lilith wanted Dean gone. His unexpected return had sent a shockwave through the demon ranks because Dean had not only been rescued from the pit … but he had been rescued by an angel.

Ruby knew this, Sam didn't. Wouldn't. She could have told him about the hit, warned him, but that would only mess with her own plans, the plans she still had for Sam. She needed Sam happy and willing to work with her and if having Dean around made him happier, then so be it, but she wasn't going to shed any tears if Dean died 'again'.

'Cause seriously, it wasn't her job to baby sit the 'short bus'. Ever since he'd been back, he'd been a thorn in her side, interfering and hampering Sam's progress. There was a war on, and the stupid ass couldn't see it for what it was. Best if he were just out of the picture all together. Maybe she should see to that herself.

The hair on the back of her neck rose. Feeling a presence, she turned around to look up at Castiel who was suddenly behind her. His hand flashed out, grabbing her firmly around the neck, her scream of surprise choked off, as his touch burned her skin like fire. His head tilted to the side as he raised his eyebrow, staring a deadly warning directly at her.

"Dean is protected."

He pushed her away with an almost effortless gentleness, but she still stumbled backwards, coughing and rubbing at her stinging throat.

Dean had the help of angels … she'd have to be more careful in future. She didn't want to get caught again … and she didn't ever want to be on the receiving end of that angel's wrath. She was out the door and gone before Castiel vanished, a feeling of dread filling her dead heart.

******

Sam had spoken to the doctor. He was very pleased with Dean's results and assured him that Dean could definitely leave in the morning. They would still keep him overnight though, just as a precautionary measure. He was sure that his brother would protest, loudly … but when he walked into his room it was to find him fast asleep. The residual shock and the array of 'awesome drugs' as Dean put it, had completely knocked him out.

So Sam settled himself, just watching Dean sleep, feeling that familiar tug at his heart at the miraculous sight. He couldn't count the amount of times he had prayed to be in this situation after Dean had died. Not sitting in a hospital room, 'cause god knew he had done that far too often, but sitting and watching his brother breathe.

He had to pinch himself some days to make sure he wasn't dreaming, because sometimes, it just didn't feel real. Like he expected Dean to vanish before his eyes any second, and leave him with that unbearable pain of being alone. He had understood that first month after Dean was gone, finally understood why Dean hated being alone. Why he always fought to keep the family together … because Sam had felt that same hollowness, the anguish that bought you to your knees … and it was something he never wanted to feel again. He knew that deep down, if he had any say, he and Dean would go out together … because he couldn't live without his brother, and he knew the same went for Dean.

He wasn't sure how long he sat like that, but finally Dean moved. He opened his eyes, blinking slowly, then sighing contentedly. Sam smiled, he was probably still high on morphine.

"Hey."

"Hey … yourself."

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah … kinda thirsty."

Sam quickly leaned over, hooking his arm behind Dean's back for support as he helped him take a sip from the plastic cup. When Dean had had his fill, he fiddled with the levers, adjusting the angle of the backrest on the bed.

"You realize you look like shit, dude."

Dean snorted, rubbing his hand across his tender midsection.

"Have you seen … yourself lately, Princess? That hair … you look a bit like … Don King!"

Sam barked out a laugh, swatting his brother, none too lightly, on the arm.

"Ass!"

There was that awkward moment of silence, hanging thick in the air, as they tried to look anywhere but at each other. The one where Sam knew he had to somehow fix what had been said … before … and Dean knowing that no matter how many times he tried to beat around that fucking bush, they were headed for another dreaded 'touchy feely' moment. Shit.

"Dean …"

"Yeah … I know …"

Sometimes things just needed saying, so Dean took that pain in the ass bull by the horns. He kept his voice low and steady … he could do this … he could do this without turning into a goddamn wuss in front of his brother, again … he could … he hoped.

"I know I failed you, Sammy, I know that …"

Sam quirked an eyebrow at his older brother, what the hell was Dean talking about?

"Dean … you've never failed me. Never. You were always there for me … and even when I thought I'd lost you forever … you still managed to come back to me." He chuckled, humorlessly. "Probably because you're the most stubborn big brother I know, but you've never failed me, Dean … never … why do you even think that?"

Dean's voice was soft, unsure.

"'Cause I wasn't good enough … didn't kill as many of those SOB's … not like you and Ruby."

And then he finally understood … Ruby … god, why hadn't he seen this before.

"Dean … this thing … this power I have … I know it could be evil … but I'm in control of it, I promise you … and I was using it for good. If I didn't have this gift, curse, whatever … I never would have survived on my own, not without you."

He could see Dean wasn't buying it, but he continued.

"I've always relied on you, knew you were there for me, watching my back, for as long as I can remember. And you and I hunted the only way we knew how, the only way we could. Me learning to harness this power, a power I didn't even know I had until that last day … god, Dean … that thing with Lilith … I couldn't stop her, I was useless … and I watched as she let those hellhounds tear at you …"

"Sam …"

"No, no … you need to understand why … you need to know why I can never forgive myself. I watched you die … right in front of me, Dean … and I couldn't do a goddamn thing about it. I fucking begged … prayed … but nothing … nothing could stop it … if I had just listened to Ruby back then …"

Dean's mouth opened, but Sam didn't give him a chance to speak.

"… and when I survived Lilith's attack, survived the blast that should have fucking killed me … some nights I used to wish it had … that's when I knew that this thing that's in me, in my blood … it's a weapon, it's my protection … and god forgive me, if I can use it to protect innocent people … protect you … I will. I won't let anything ever stop me again. Never."

Those words scared Dean in more ways than he could imagine. How was he going to convince his little brother that what he was doing was all kinds of wrong?

"Sammy, you couldn't have stopped that … don't you understand … there was nothing you could have done. That was all me … my doing."

Sam was shaking his head furiously.

"No, Dean, you're wrong … I could have stopped it. I just didn't know how. And the worst part … after … the worst part was dreaming that you were still alive."

"Sammy …"

"I would dream you were alive, Dean … laughing … joking … I could almost hear your voice then … 'cause when I was awake … I couldn't remember the sound of it, could barely conjure up your face. But in my dreams you'd say that everything would be okay … and I could feel you at my back, looking out for me, and I felt safe … like always."

Sam swallowed the emotions building up in him, the memories still raw enough to hurt.

"And then I'd wake up … and god, Dean, that was the worst time of the day for me … waking up … looking over at that empty bed … those few seconds before you realize …"

The gentle pressure of Dean's hand on Sam's wrist, pulled him back to the present. He blinked, trying to clear his head of the images.

" … and the drinking, shit I know all about the drinking, the avoiding … you're going to have to deal with it eventually, share the burden. 'Cause it's too much for you to bear alone."

Sam couldn't tell Dean that Cas had shown him some of those memories, it wasn't something Dean needed to know.

"I kinda understand now … and what I'm offering you isn't much … but I'm here … here, if you need me."

Dean took a few moments to respond, his voice barely a whisper.

"Me not talking about it … blocking the images anyway I can …"

Two sets of haunted eyes locked with each other.

"… that's me dealing, Sam."

There was more to say, but neither one of them had the strength to continue, the sudden unnerving silence making Dean squirm slightly as he tried to get more comfortable. Instead, he huffed in irritation at the aches and pains of the bruises, the road rash littering his near flawless skin … damn … he'd only been out of hell for four months and he was already accumulating a new array of war wounds … hopefully nothing that would scar.

He looked over at his silent brother, lifting up one eyebrow, putting a mock look of horror on his face.

"Okay … this 'chick flick' thing over now? … or do we need to go out and buy matching outfits? 'Cause I think I saw a cute number in the 'Victoria's Secret' brochure … you keep hidden in your duffel?"

Dean cursed under his breath as his attempt at humor was abruptly replaced with a small groan, pain weavings its way through his strained muscles.

Sam's downcast eyes flicked up, instantly filled with worry, before he stood up.

"You okay … you need anything … more morphine?"

Dean grinned, Sammy was back to his 'mothering' ways. Thank god. Some sense of normality. But his loopy grin was quickly replaced by a loopy frown … 'cause the 'dude' in question, right this very moment, was fluffing his pillows over enthusiastically behind his back, before leaning forward to peer into his eyes, checking his pupil responses. He swatted at his siblings uninvited hand as it reached for his forehead.

"Dude … seriously … Morphine? When have I ever needed morphine?"

He was baiting Sam … and as always … it worked.

"Morphine? You're shitting me right? You were practically weaned on morphine, Dean. Your blood is probably made up of fifty percent 'bullshit' … and the other fifty percent morphine."

Dean chuckled at that.

"Yeah well, at least it's not twenty five percent 'bullshit', and seventy five percent that pansy ass, frothy, vanilla latte shit with chocolate sprinkles, that you drink."

Sam snorted loudly as Dean continued to grin … relaxing a little into the comfort of routine.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Hit 'n run, hey?"

Sam nodded, swallowing awkwardly at the memory, his throat suddenly going dry.

"Yeah."

"Did it look cool … like in the movies?"

Sam stared at his brother for a second, maybe he'd hit his head harder then they initially thought.

"Did what look cool?"

Dean was straightening the sheets over his lap in a fidgety manner.

"The whole 'flying through the air' thing … you know, like in the movies!"

Sam shook his head at his obviously insane brother, remembering a similar conversation a few months back, before lightly swatting Dean's blanketed leg.

"What?"

"You're an idiot, Dean."

Dean blinked in confusion, voice stuttering slightly in obvious disagreement.

"Whatever … I'm just saying … run over by a big ass car and surviving with barely a scratch, angel help or not … I'm totally Batman, dude."

Sam was grinning stupidly; talking shit with his big brother, a brother that was a little worse for wear, but still alive, Sam's very own miracle … he didn't need anything else for Christmas.

"Yes, Dean … you're Batman ..."

The blessed silence only lasted for a second.

"Good … glad we finally agree … now go fetch me a cup of extra strong, black, manly coffee … Robin."

"Robin? I'll 'Robin' your ass, dude … and you're not getting coffee …"

"'Robin my ass'? Sammy, my boy, you are getting way too kinky. What exactly did Ruby teach you?"

Sam blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Shut-up!"

"You shut-up!"

"Ass!"

"There … with the 'ass' remark again … there something you need to share with me? Do we need another little heart to heart, 'cause you know I'll love you any which way you swing?"

"That's it, definitely no coffee for you!"

Dean ignored the threat, undeterred.

"Well, not 'love' exactly …"

"Jerk!"

"Jerk? Seriously, I'm getting more and more worried by the minute."

**_Fin :)_**

_Whew, another cat saved! My work here is done ;)_

**Poll:** Please check out the poll on my main page, there's a link to cdlitestudios (Connie's) amazing work under my bio as well ;) – each of her creations are handmade and **one of a kind** – and most definitely deserving of the price tag. I nagged and nagged, and she said if the poll I created got a good response, she'd consider using the boys as muses. Now imagine owning your very own Dean or Sammy … I know … I fainted too LOL ;)


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